


One For the Road

by Kiwikiwi591



Series: Uni!Lock [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Porn With Plot, Possible smut later, Roadtrip, Romance, Student John, Student Sherlock, Uni!lock, actually probably, almost definitely, okay now there's smut, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwikiwi591/pseuds/Kiwikiwi591
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have been together six months, and neither can remember a time when they were happier. John's entrance into the military approaches, however, and Sherlock can't quite cope with it; in an effort to calm him down, John decides to take him on a roadtrip over spring break. All sorts of things ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm back! Sorry for abandoning my writing for so long, school has taken so much of my time. Now that the semester's winding down, hopefully I'll have more time to write c:
> 
> Here's some more Uni!Lock for you guys, hope you like it c:

John sighed, dropping his schoolbag heavily by the door as he walked inside.

“Two weeks,” he said. “Two more weeks, and then freedom for three. God, that’ll be fantastic.” He toed off his shoes and walked over to the couch where Sherlock was stretched out, hands behind his head. He’d obviously just gotten out of bed not long ago, still wearing a worn-through t-shirt and sweatpants.

John smiled and ruffled Sherlock’s hair as he crouched down to eye level with him.

“’Bout time you got up, lazy arse,” he said, giving a quick kiss on the cheek. The corners of Sherlock’s mouth twitched has he attempted a smile, but it quickly fell. John frowned, and stood to walk to the other end of the couch.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, sitting by Sherlock’s feet. Sherlock gave a long-suffering sigh in response, offering no words. John’s stomach turned; he did, in fact, know what was wrong, but wasn’t even _close_ to in the mood to talk about it again. The last time hadn’t ended well at all, and the first time it was brought up had very nearly broken them apart.

“I think you know quite well what’s wrong,” Sherlock mumbled. John sighed, leaned his head back.

“We’ve talked about it already, Sherlock,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t agree, and I’m sorry for it, but I’m already signed on. It’s just something I need to do.”

Sherlock’s head sprung up, and he turned to look at John with a hard stare.

“You know for a fact that it is _not_ something you need to do, you’re just foolishly choosing to do so,” he said. “It’s an absolutely moronic show of bravery, ‘for queen and country’ and all that.”

“It is _not_ just to show off, Sherlock,” he replied, shrinking away from him a bit. “It’s something I’ve planned to do for years. It feels like the _right_ thing to do, not just a bloody opportunity to show off!”

“Yes, the _right_ thing to do,” Sherlock sneered. “The _right_ and _just_ thing to do, oh, to die in battle will be such an honour-“

“You know what, no. I’m not doing this right now,” John fumed, standing and walking towards the kitchen. “It’s already been discussed, and it’s going to happen. I’m leaving for basic training in June, and you’re just going to have to get used to the idea like the other people in my life that I’m leaving behind.”

Sherlock was silent then, turning himself towards the back of the couch. John continued into the kitchen, slammed his fists on the countertop. He cursed himself silently, fuming for a couple moments. He cooled a bit as he took his time getting some water and mugs ready, and by the time the tea was steeping, he was well into regretting the yelling. He sighed to himself. It was how their arguments usually went, one of them eventually feeling bad enough for yelling at the other that a roundabout apology is given. John grabbed the two mugs – putting a spoonful of honey into Sherlock’s first – and walked back to the main room.

As expected, Sherlock hadn’t moved, save for curling up tightly. John felt another pang of regret at the sight; he swore Sherlock did it on purpose just to squeeze a bit more pity out of him.

“I made tea,” John said quietly, setting Sherlock’s mug on the coffee table.

Sherlock made no effort to acknowledge him in the slightest.

John sighed again. “I really am sorry, Sherlock,” he mumbled.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” Sherlock muttered.

John’s heart practically broke; what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“I _am_ coming back, you know,” he said. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“A good thing, too,” Sherlock said, beginning to turn back towards him. “I think I would have lost you quite some time ago if you weren’t mad enough to put up with me on a daily basis.”

“And mad I must be,” John joked. “I don’t think a sane man would have been able to recover from accidentally using a frozen _eyeball_ instead of ice in their drink.”

“I told you not to use the blue tray,” Sherlock replied, smiling now as he sat up. “It’s not my fault if you can’t follow directions.”

“ _We have two blue trays!”_ John responded, grinning. He finally got a laugh from Sherlock at that, a low rumble from his chest.

They were quiet for a while then, sipping from their mugs and enjoying the comfortable silence. After a few moments, Sherlock’s smile fell a bit again, and he looked up at John, lips momentarily tight.

“You... You will come back, won’t you?” Sherlock asked, grip tightening on his mug a bit.

John stared back a moment, then set his own mug down. “Yeah, of course,” he replied. He walked over, sat beside him. “Of course I will. I wouldn’t leave you.”

Sherlock relaxed a bit, scooted almost undetectably closer to him. “Right.”

John sighed, leaned back. They were quiet again, Sherlock eventually finishing his tea and laying back down, head in John’s lap.

“You know,” John said after a while, playing with his lover’s curls, “I was thinking,”

“That’s dangerous,” Sherlock mumbled, eyes shut.

“Shut it, you,” John replied, getting a small laugh from Sherlock in response. “We have almost three weeks without classes for spring break. It’s really the last bit of time we’ll get before...” he trailed off, not wanting to go down that road again quite yet.

“Your point?” Sherlock said with a short sigh.

“I was thinking, wouldn’t it be nice if we went travelling? Just collected all the money we possibly can between now and then, and just go everywhere we can. I can borrow mum’s car, we can get a tent and camp out, just see some sights...” he said, the whole thing unfolding in his mind. Warm nights, stargazing, seeing things that they’d both been wanting to see...

“Yes,” Sherlock said simply, smiling again.

“Really? You want to?” John asked, looking down at him.

“Hmm,” Sherlock reaffirmed, obviously getting sleepy again.

“Good. Great, actually. Yes,” he said, leaning his head back against the couch. “It’ll be nice,” he said. His eyes slipped closed as he continued running fingers slowly through Sherlock’s hair, mumbling things every once in a while about what they’d do, what they’d see.

They eventually dozed off, hands sleepily entangled.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip gets off to a (surprisingly) uneventful start.

Sherlock got up from the couch, going to check the window for what seemed like the fortieth time since he’d gotten home. John would be arriving with the car any moment now, and they could finally leave. The thought of this trip and what may ensue during its length got Sherlock through the past couple weeks, but somehow the last 20 minutes of waiting remaining seemed absolutely interminable. Sherlock flopped into a chair, staring at the wall.

A few moments later, Sherlock heard a car door outside the window. He sprang up, opening the door just as John walked inside.

“Good _God, could you have been any slower?”_ Sherlock whined, grabbing the two bags beside the door.

“I was picking up some extra supplies, git,” John replied, watching Sherlock bound out the door. “I still need to pack, you know!” he called after him.

Sherlock lifted the bag in his left hand. “You’re covered,” he yelled back. John gave a long sigh, opting to quickly glance around to be sure that he had everything he needed. Sure enough, Sherlock had packed exactly what John had planned bringing himself; nothing more, nothing less.

He wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever quite get used to the extent that Sherlock seemed to know him.

* * *

 

Sherlock stared out the window as the scenery flowed by. He sighed, and then leaned forward, resting his arms and head on the dashboard.

“Bored,” he murmured. John laughed quietly in response.

“It’s going to be one hell of a trip if you’re complaining already,” he said. “We’ve only been driving for ten minutes.”

“How far is our first stop?” Sherlock asked.

“About another three hours,” John replied.

Sherlock sighed again. “And where is our destination?” he asked, idly playing with the light film of dust on the dash.

“It wouldn’t be fun if you knew, would it?” John said. “Besides, you’re the psychic. Figure it out.”

“As I’ve already said, John, I’m _not_ a psychic; I just actually _look_ at my surroundings rather than allowing them to pass by,” he said.

“I know, killjoy,” John replied. “Just trying to lighten the mood a bit.” He peeked over at Sherlock, finding him nearly flat against the dash and looking absolutely miserable. He sighed. “Norwich. We’re going to Norwich. Just some quick sightseeing, maybe a stay overnight, then off to our next spot.”

“Knew it,” Sherlock said, smiling ever so slightly.

“You did not!” John said. Sherlock laughed a bit, and John smiled.

* * *

 

“Sherlock,” John said softly.

Sherlock woke with a start, sitting up quickly and bashing his head on the roof.

“Hey, calm down!” John said, simultaneously fussing and fighting laughter. “You just fell asleep, that’s all. We’re here.”

“Should have let me sleep,” Sherlock grumbled, rubbing his head. John smiled, laughed once.

“Come on, first destination! Let’s go look!” John said. He grabbed the keys and got out of the car, smiling widely.

Sherlock stepped out of the car, following behind John as they walked towards a small group of people gathered beneath a tree. John stopped a moment.

“Hold on, almost forgot-“He took two tickets out of his pockets, handed one over to Sherlock.

“’Norwich Guided Walk’? We’re doing a walking tour, John?” Sherlock asked, looking up at him incredulously.

“It’s part of the experience! Come on, it’s only an hour long!” John said, motioning him to follow and rushing towards the rest of the group. They each handed their tickets to the guide, who began her introduction once a few others joined up. He and John drifted to the back of the group as they began to walk. Sherlock sighed, resigning himself to an hour of drabble about old buildings and events he really couldn’t care less about.

Although he had to admit, his mood improved a bit as he felt John’s fingers find his own.

* * *

 

Bored, bored, bored, _bored._

For _God’s sake, how long could you speak about one bloody pub?_

“You could at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,” John said quietly to his left.

“What for?” he asked.

“If for nothing else but to make me feel better about paying for the tickets,” John replied.

Sherlock hummed noncommittally, but did attempt to look at his surroundings a bit more than he had been.

After a couple more moments of walking, John turned to him again.

“Do the thing if you’re so bored,” he said.

“You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that,” Sherlock replied.

“You know, the deductions,” John said. He nodded towards a couple sitting on a bench nearby as the group stopped. “Tell me about them.”

Sherlock sighed. “I don’t see what could possibly be interesting about a couple in their twenties who’re having relationship issues that only one of them knows about,” he said.

“Do tell,” John said.

“The woman has an identical twin sister. They’re very close, close enough that they’re barely seen away from each other,” Sherlock said. “You can see her over by the shops.”

John looked over, and sure enough, an identical woman was looking at a nearby window display.

“However, the man is unobservant. Extraordinarily so. He’s completely unable to tell them apart, despite the seven- no, eight- characteristics distinctly separating them.”

“Sounds like a normal man to me,” John said.

“Although most men are unobservant, like yourself,” Sherlock said, “This man is at a whole different level. His girlfriend has hinted four times already that she’d like to come and join this tour, or perhaps go on another, and he’s completely missed it each time.”

“Alright, fine, point?”

“He hasn’t noticed that the girlfriend and her sister have switched places multiple times. The woman is unhappy in her relationship, and so her sister will spend a night with him so that she can go and meet her lover,” Sherlock said, “Who, if I am not mistaken, is the man’s sister.”

“Jesus, that’s a lot to be dealing with,” John said. The group began moving again just as the woman got up; John could see her and her sister swapping places as they turned the corner. “Poor guy.”

“He’s cheating as well, so don’t feel too bad,” Sherlock said.

“Huh,” he said. John looked ahead, then moved a bit closer to Sherlock. “What about him? The one four spots ahead of us?”

“Oh, he’s on this tour scoping out women,” Sherlock replied. “He’s already seen several that he’s considered, but as of right now our lovely tour guide is his favourite.”

The man glanced quickly backwards, then continued walking.

“Oh my god, really?” John asked. “Out of all the women we’ve passed, and he chose _her?”_

“Wandering eye, John?” Sherlock teased. “Just can’t keep yourself under control, can you?”

“Oh stop it,” John said. “What about the tour guide then? Anything?”

“Mmmm, she’s got a bit of an eye for our lady’s man up here as well,” Sherlock said. “In fact, she’s seriously considered confronting him once the tour ends, but is concerned about the other tours she has scheduled today.”

“Love at first tour, then?” John asked.

“It would appear so,” Sherlock replied. “Although she normally prefers older men, she’s taken a particular liking to this younger man, likely because he’s shown indicators of his wealth several times-“

“Are you quite finished?” came the sharp voice of the tour guide rather suddenly. John flushed a deep red, not quite sure how he hadn’t noticed that not only her but the majority of the tour group had stopped to look at the two of them.

“No, not really-“ Sherlock said, but John punched him lightly.

“We’ll just take our leave,” John said. “The tour’s almost finished anyway.”

“John-“ Sherlock began, cutting himself off as John gave him a look.

They walked away, the rest of the group continuing on.

“It was a boring tour anyway,” John mumbled.

“You know, she would have excused it,” Sherlock said. “She had a bit of an eye for you as well-“

“Oh, God no,” John said. “Not in a million years.”

Sherlock smiled. “You _definitely_ could have gone with her later on, if you’d asked.”

John groaned, covering his face with one hand. “The image, God,” he said. “I need eye bleach.”

John sighed, then smiled. “Besides,” he said, tightening his grip on Sherlock’s hand. “Why would I go after someone like her when I’ve got this?”

Sherlock chuckled. “Not the slightest idea,” he said teasingly. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Watson.”

“That I am,” he replied, and they walked on down the street.

* * *

 

John sighed as he flopped down on the bed, having checked them into a room for the night.

“It would probably be more cost efficient to have just slept in the car, you know,” Sherlock said, sitting on his own bed.

“Did _you_ want to try and sleep in a Mini?” John asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Because I sure as hell didn’t, especially with the way you sleep.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, there’s only two possible ways it could have gone: one, you wouldn’t sleep at all, and would keep me up all night trying to experiment on my hair or something,” John said. “Or two, you would sleep, and you would take up every last bit of space in that car _.”_

“I don’t take up a lot of space!” Sherlock said with mock offense.

“Oh my God, you do!” John said, laughing. “The seats would be folded down, sure, but you would sprawl out until you stretched from front to back!”

“Hmph,” Sherlock huffed, then roamed his hands over the sheets.

“You could have saved money by getting a one-bed room as well,” he said after a moment, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Then neither of us would have slept,” John said, one corner of his mouth quirked. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“Never hurts to try,” he replied. John laughed then yawned, barely staying awake.

“Sorry to do this, mate, but I’m falling asleep over here,” John said. He lay down, getting comfortable.

“No waking me up before sunrise,” John said sternly. Sherlock huffed.

“Fine,” he said. “Goodnight, John,”

“Goodnight,” he replied, turning out the light.

He could hear Sherlock breathing deeply just before drifting off himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve Eve! Sorry this took so long, the last couple weeks of class were awful. 
> 
> Also, this chapter was a bit slow, but it'll get better, promise! c:


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John get a bit lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I gave in. I was debating over whether or not I was going to do any nsfw in this fic, but hey, it happens.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

John didn’t quite wake up all at once, slowly drifting through pleasant half-asleep, half-awake.

He woke up a bit more as he noticed that there was something, or rather someone, pressed to his back, and another something wrapped around his middle. He sighed deeply, groaning a bit as he shifted. Sherlock immediately nuzzled his head into John’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly.

“Morning,” John said blearily. He just barely cracked an eye open, noticing that the sun had just barely risen above the horizon. “Look at that, you made it until sunrise.”

“And it took nearly every ounce of patience I had,” Sherlock replied. “You were very nearly awoken at 4 AM for an experiment, but there is no greater wrath than John Watson taken out of bed too early.”

“Watch it you,” John said, playfully kicking Sherlock’s leg. “You’re not exactly a morning person either, when you sleep anyways. You should see yourself during early classes.”

Sherlock groaned, burying himself deeper into John’s shoulder. “Oh, God,” he said, “Don’t even mention those moronic lectures while we’re out here, I can practically feel my IQ dropping just at the memory.”

John chucked, then closed his eyes for another moment. He sighed, gave a squeeze to Sherlock’s arm, then moved to get up.

“We’d better get moving,” John said. “I was planning on having breakfast at our next stop, but we have enough time to eat here if we hurry.” He stretched as he stood. “Think I’ll have a shower first, though.”

“Mind if I join you?” Sherlock asked. “Only to save on time,” he added after John threw him a look.

“Fine, but we really do need to hurry,” John replied after a couple moments, “So if you’re planning on doing anything with that saved time, you’d best get a move on.” He smiled lightly then walked to the bathroom. Sherlock followed, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

 

“...There’s a turn coming up, Sherlock, do I take it?”John asked, glancing to his left. Sherlock turned the map again, staring at it for a couple moments before shifting it around.

“Yes. No, wait- what road are we on?” Sherlock asked.

“A47?” John replied.

“And coming up is?”

“A17.”

“Okay, then... Yes, turn onto that. We need that. Absolutely,” Sherlock said, putting the map away.

“Are you sure?” John asked.

“Yes. One hundred percent. Ninety-seven percent,” Sherlock replied.

“Alright,” John sighed, and turned onto the roadway.

Some time passed, and turns were taken, and after what seemed like forever John noticed that they were very much _not_ in Peterborough.

“Sherlock, are you sure that last turn was right?” John asked. “We should have been there nearly an hour ago.”

“Yes, the map said to take A17!” Sherlock said.

“Alright, but what road came after that?” John asked.

“Road after?” Sherlock asked, suddenly seeming a bit unsure. He looked over the map again, then stopped. “Oh.”

“Oh?” John asked.

“I, ah... I may have made a bit of a mistake here...” Sherlock replied. “No, we actually shouldn’t have taken that last turn. We’ve actually gone pretty much the opposite direction of where we wanted to go.”

John sighed. “Can you find a way back?”

“Yes, one moment..” Sherlock replied, looking the map over again. “Alright, it looks like you can turn up here...”

Sherlock continued reading from the map, although John became less and less sure that they could really be considered directions.

After another hour of this, John sighed and pulled to the side of the road. Suddenly, a thought hit him.

“Sherlock,” John said, “You know that discussion we had about the solar system?”

“I hardly see how that’s relevant,” Sherlock grumbled, still peering over the map.

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” John replied, “but... Do you not know how to read a map?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I know how!” Sherlock said. John raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s really fine if you don’t-“

“Well you didn’t very well ask if I could, did you!” Sherlock snapped, “You just handed it over, told me to navigate!” He sighed, folding the map and setting it to the side as he rested his head on the dash.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” John asked.

“I just didn’t want to ruin something else you’d planned,” Sherlock mumbled, “After the disaster of a tour, I didn’t want to do anything else that would keep things from going according to plan.”

“Disaster? That was _much_ better than the tour we would’ve gotten if you hadn’t spoken up,” John replied, “God, that was terrible. Really an awful idea on my part.” Sherlock didn’t respond, and John sighed. He looked over and grabbed the map, then glanced back at Sherlock.

“Look,” John said. “There’s an inn with a couple shops around not too far from here. Let’s scrap the plan for today, get some food, and stay the night, okay?”

Sherlock glanced up at him. “Not angry?”

“No, no!” John said incredulously. “Why on earth would you think that? It’s no big deal if things don’t go exactly as planned, so long as we’re having a good time anyway, right?”

“I suppose,” Sherlock replied. He sat up, sighing again. “Although I’m sure whatever we would’ve done in Peterborough would have been good as well.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” John said, beginning to get back on the road. “I’ve kind of struck out so far.”

“So long as it wasn’t another guided walk, it couldn’t have gotten worse.”

“True.”

Silence filled the car after a couple moments. John turned on the stereo, then returned his attention to the road.

* * *

 

“...I’m afraid we’ve only got single-bed rooms left,” the clerk at the desk said. “Festival nearby, as it turns out.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” John replied, slightly distracted as he watched Sherlock looking around the room. He had ‘the look’ on, that sharpness that his expression took on whenever he was working something out. John idly wondered what had caught his attention so quickly.

“Ah,” the clerk replied, snapping John back into focus. He noticed that the man’s gaze had drifted over to Sherlock as well. “I understand. That’ll be 70 pounds, then,”

John begrudgingly handed over the notes; it was a bit over what he’d planned, and they’d already shopped around a bit that day, but it was alright. Plenty of places to cut back to make up for it. John collected the room key, gave a quick “Ta,” and walked over to Sherlock, who was still staring intently at some of the patrons in the dining area.

“So, what’ve you got?” John asked, trying to seek out whoever had caught Sherlock’s attention.

“Hmm?”

“I know that look, you’ve spotted something,” John replied, “So what’s going on? Is the woman over there having an affair? Is the man by the window secretly an escaped murderer?”

“Oh, no, nothing that exciting,” Sherlock replied. “Just some ordinary pickpocketing. Someone stole your escaped murderer’s wallet a while ago and he still hasn’t noticed. His girlfriend has, however, and hasn’t told him about it.” Sherlock took a deep breath, then turned to John and smiled.

“Anyways, let’s get to our room, yes?”

John nodded, and they walked on towards the stairs. Their room was at the end of what was definitely a longer than expected hallway. John fumbled for the keys, but froze as he felt Sherlock get close to his ear.

“Single bed, hmmm?” Sherlock whispered, putting a hand on John’s side and letting it roam ever so slightly. He felt his skin go prickly as his stomach twisted a bit.

“It would appear so,” John replied, trying to keep his outward expression as close to neutral as possible. “Didn’t have any double bed rooms left. All occupied for a nearby festival, apparently.”

“And all the rooms at this end of the hall are singles,” Sherlock said. “The closest other occupant is four rooms down, and they’ve just gone out for dinner.” Sherlock’s hand dipped lower, and John couldn’t help but shiver a bit.

“God, you weren’t watching a pickpocket, were you?” John replied, unable to keep his voice totally even anymore. “You were working out how good your chances were of getting me in bed!”

“Oh, no, there really was a rather amusing situation unfolding there,” Sherlock replied. A second hand rested on John’s shoulder. “But I can, in fact, multitask.”

“Apparently,” John said, suddenly a bit at a loss for words. He fumbled with the key, trying to undo the lock as quickly as humanly possible. God, the things that man could do with just a couple words...

John finally got the door open, and they stepped inside, shutting the door behind them. Before he could say a word, Sherlock’s mouth was on his, moving and pulling as he lightly tugged John’s jacket off of his shoulders. John obliged without a thought, tossing it into a corner. Sherlock pulled away a moment later and looked back at him. John could hardly stand the sight, those icy eyes he’d come to love combined with flushed lips and cheeks... He very suddenly wished he had the ability to take sights and store them with perfect accuracy like his lover could.

“Seems I’ve left you speechless,” Sherlock said, voice low and rumbling. John shivered, trying desperately to think of a good reply-

“Poss- Possibly,” John said.

_Damn it._

Sherlock chuckled, then moved in to kiss John again, but it was different this time. The first time it’d been hard and fast, a quick hit for a fix. This time it was slow, desperate; John felt like he could have practically melted into it. He could feel his jeans getting tighter by the second under Sherlock’s touch, almost jumping as Sherlock’s fingertips just barely brushed over.

“Sherlock-“ John said, trying to convey everything in that one word. Sherlock seemed to understand at least part of it, and stopped just long enough to guide them towards the bed. He slipped off his coat, showing a simple grey t-shirt underneath. He gently pushed John to sit on the bed.

He roamed his hands over John’s chest, slowly dipping lower and lower until he reached his thighs. He rubbed there for a moment, glancing approvingly at the result of his work. He lightly rubbed his fingers along the bulge there, laughing quietly when he noticed John’s iron-tight grip on the bed sheets.

“It doesn’t take much for me to take you apart, John Watson,” Sherlock murmured. “Just a little touch and you’re melting for me.”

John made a noise that was really supposed to be a reply, but instead came out as kind of a low whine. _God,_ he really could take him apart in no time at all.

Sherlock undid the button and zip on John’s jeans. He tugged them down to John’s ankles, and quirked an eyebrow at John’s pants.

“Red?” Sherlock asked. John shrugged in response, not quite able to manage anything else. Sherlock got to work again, tracing fingertips over the now very clear outline of John’s cock through the fabric. He earned a gasp from John as he bent down, mouthing it. After just a couple moments, there were fingers grasping his hair, trying to pull him back.

“Hnng, Sherlock, if you don’t quit that I’m not going to last long,” John said, panting a bit.

“So?” Sherlock replied, but waited before continuing, rubbing his hands over John’s thighs. After a couple moments, he finally pulled the pants away.

“Hmmm,” Sherlock hummed, taking a small bead of precome and smearing it over the tip. “You’re really not going to last long at all, are you?” He stroked once, twice. John groaned as Sherlock let go, suddenly very much missing the touch.

His breath hitched as Sherlock took the tip into his mouth, sucking ever so slightly. He held it there just for a moment, before letting it free with an audible pop. He waited just a moment, then took John in as far as he could.

“ _Christ!”_ John hissed, fingers weaving into Sherlock’s curls of what seemed to be their own accord. It was so much, almost too much- he was certain he wouldn’t last more than a couple minutes.

Sherlock bobbed his head, expertly licking and sucking as he went. It was like he knew every last place John needed to be touched, no matter how small, and was hitting every last one of them. He groaned again, leaning his head back.

He both heard and felt Sherlock panting, and looked down only to see those blue eyes staring right back at him.

 _I know you like it when I watch you,_ they seemed to say. He noticed, vaguely, that Sherlock had begun to stroke himself lazily with each bob of his head. John tried desperately to hold on, to make sure Sherlock came first, but he could already feel himself begin to tighten.

“Shhh....” John began, trying to warn him, but the word escaped him. Sherlock moaned, one soft little sound, and began to stroke faster, faster, _faster_ in time with the bobbing. He tightened his fingers and Sherlock groaned and went even _faster_ , John knew it had to hurt at least a bit but he couldn’t stop, and he could feel himself get closer by the second, and-

John lost any train of thought he may have had as he finally hit his peak, emptying into Sherlock’s mouth. He noticed through the haze that Sherlock had come at very nearly the same time, spilling onto his hand, swallowing around John all the while.

After a couple moments, Sherlock opened his mouth, freeing John’s cock. Neither of them moved for a moment, just breathing heavily in the silent afterglow.

“That... That was..” John began.

“Good?” Sherlock cut in.

“Yeah, good. Very, very good,” he replied. He lay back on the bed, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. Sherlock stood, going to the bathroom to clean himself off. After a couple moments, he felt Sherlock lay down beside him, sighing deeply.

“Well, you should sleep well tonight,” John said.

Sherlock laughed quietly in response. “Yes, I suppose so.”

John grabbed the covers, dragged them over them both. They scooted closer together, Sherlock fitting neatly against John’s side. John shut his eyes, shifting to get comfortable.

“One of these days you’re going to come first,” John said.

Sherlock snorted. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Maybe not,” John replied, “but in all of the admittedly few times we’ve been together, it’s always been me who’s first. I’d rather not get a reputation for being quick.”

“Hmm, yes, must protect your precious reputation,” Sherlock said, “if we don’t, who knows what will happen back in uni. I’m sure they’ve already heard the news, ‘John Watson, faster than a speeding bullet in the worst kind of way.’”

John kicked him. “Oh, shut it,” he said. “Roll over and get some sleep.”

“I did intend on it,” Sherlock said. He yawned, then planted one last kiss on John’s cheek. “You are fine, you know.”

“I know,” John said. “Was just joking around.” He turned and flipped the switch on the bedside lamp.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

“Goodnight, John,” Sherlock replied.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock move into the next leg of the trip.
> 
> This time, John's sure he's got it right.

It took John a moment to remember where he was, startling a bit as he awoke.

Glancing around, John found the glow of the digital clock on the other side of the room; 4:30. Not late enough to get up yet.

Although the nightmare itself had already faded, John's heart still hammered in his chest. Just the barest recollection still remained; gunshots, someone yelling his name... He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to stop his shaking hands. After a couple of moments Sherlock shifted closer, huffing a bit in his sleep. John let out a breath, relaxing into the sheets and swallowing hard.

_Christ, that has got to stop soon._

The nightmares had been happening for a while now. If he was honest with himself, John knew exactly what was causing it. He wouldn't ever admit it to anyone else, but shipping out scared the hell out of him. He still felt like it was the right thing to do, but...

On many a night before he’d been with Sherlock, the rest of his night would be spent mulling over his not-so-distant future. But tonight, something was different. Something about the body next to his own wiped his worries away, even if only for a while. He glanced towards Sherlock, hair mussed and face softened, and gave a small smile. After a couple moments he could feel himself drifting off again.

He didn’t try to fight it.

* * *

 

 John gave a quick thanks to the clerk as he dropped off the room key and walked out to the car. Sherlock stood leaning against it, looking up as John came closer.  
  
“Bit of a long drive today,” John said. “We’ll need to stop at some shops about halfway through.”  
  
Sherlock sighed. “How long?” he asked.

“About 6 hours, altogether,” he replied. He smiled and put a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “It’s worth it though, I promise.”  
  
 _So long as this part actually goes to plan, anyway._

“Well, so long as _you_ think it’s worth it…” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

“Stop it, you,” John said, playfully smacking Sherlock’s arm. “It will be. I planned this particular part _very_ carefully.”

Sherlock smiled ever so slightly, sending John’s heart to his throat. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the sight of that particular smile, the small one that only showed when he was genuinely happy.

John got into the car, Sherlock following behind him shortly.

* * *

 

John pulled through the gate, looking forwards to the toll booth. He smiled politely at the man inside.

“Hello, I called a couple days ago, got a permit? Under the name, ‘Watson’?” He said.

Sherlock glanced around as the man flipped through his papers. Dusk was just beginning to settle in, trees silhouetted against the faded oranges and pinks of the incoming sunset. There weren’t many cars around, but the few that remained had gear of all sorts strapped to their tops.

“Camping, John?” Sherlock asked incredulously.

“Trust me on this one,” he replied as he took a ticket from the man. He hung it from the rearview mirror, and pulled forward. He parked in a corner, right beside a trail leading through the trees. “Help me carry some of this stuff?”

Sherlock obliged, grabbing a rather large bag holding what he assumed to be a tent. John took a smaller duffel bag, along with a backpack.

“Right then,” He said, smiling. “Let’s go.”

John led them through the trees, walking carefully along the path. The light was fading around them, and Sherlock couldn’t help the bit of chill that crept up his spine at the sight.

“One second,” John said, stopping and setting the smaller bag down. “I know it’s here somewhere- ah!”

He took a flashlight out of the bag and flicked the switch, illuminating the forest around them. Sherlock breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as they continued walking.

After a few more moments of walking, they finally came upon a clearing. It was a perfectly isolated little spot, far from any civilization save for the buildings at the park entrance. John set his bags down just in front of a divot in the ground.

“We can put a fire here later,” John said. “Unless you want to hike back and grab some wood now.”

“Definitely not,” Sherlock replied, dropping the really rather heavy tent bag near the others.

John’s flashlight was quickly becoming a little beacon in the night, with only the barest bits of color still on the horizon from sunset.

“The trip down here took a bit longer than expected,” John said, walking over to the tent bag and unzipping it. “Let’s get this set up while we still have any light at all.”

* * *

 

“Finally finished,” John said, stepping back. “No thanks to you, lazy arse.”

“I _did_ try,” Sherlock replied without looking up from his phone. “It just didn’t work out very well.”

“Well, at any rate, we have somewhere to sleep now,” John said. He sat down beside Sherlock in front of the tent.

“True,” Sherlock said. He sighed, locking his phone and looking over at John. “So why did you drag us out here?”

John smiled, shut off his flashlight, and looked at the sky.

“I still don’t-“Sherlock followed his gaze and then stopped, his eyes adjusting to the dark. “Oh.”

There were more stars than Sherlock could ever remember seeing. Without the light pollution of the city to interfere, the night sky was absolutely _filled_ with little twinkles of light. He gazed around, temporarily stunned.

“One minute,” John said, reaching back into the tent. He came back with the backpack. “There’s something else, too-“

He reached in, grabbing something and setting it on the ground. John began to set it up, Sherlock suddenly realizing what it actually was.

“Portable telescope,” John said. “Bought it online. Bit last minute, actually.”

He stood the telescope up, the eyepiece sitting at the perfect height for them to look through it.

“I just thought of that night ages ago, where we went out and looked at the sky for a while,” John said. “You seemed to enjoy it, so I thought maybe it’d be nice to do it again. I mean I know you aren’t into astronomy or anything, but I just-”

“John,” Sherlock said, not quite able to think of anything else to say but still wanting to reassure him. “This is… I mean…”

“We don’t have to,” John said quickly. “I can put this away and we can find something else to do-“

“Show me something.”

“What?” John asked, stopping in his tracks.

“Show me something. A planet, the moon, whatever- just something,” he said. “I don’t know how.”

“Alright,” John replied softly after a moment. “I could show you how, if you want.”

“Go ahead,” Sherlock replied, smiling softly.

“Okay, well,” John said, shifting a bit closer. He grabbed Sherlock’s hand, guiding him to a knob on the side. “This knob here locks the telescope in place. Once you’ve sighted something through the eyepiece, you can lock on by tightening this. And over here…”

John continued to guide Sherlock’s hand around, showing him how to sight an object and center it in view. He got out a filter he’d brought along, explained how it helped the view. They sat there for hours, just happy to be in the quiet together as John pointed out parts of the sky, naming constellations and facts of all sorts in a hushed voice.

For the first time in what felt like years, Sherlock’s head was quiet. His whole world for the time being was him next to John, their fingers weaved together on the cool grass. He never wanted to leave.

His stomach twisted as he remembered the reason for their trip. John was, in fact, leaving, and there wasn’t a single thing Sherlock could do to stop it. He sat up a bit suddenly, taking his hand away from John’s. John turned to look at him, confused.

“You need to promise me something,” Sherlock said. John froze for a moment, not entirely sure what to think. In all the time they’d been together, Sherlock had never asked anything of him so directly.

“What is it?” John asked.

“You need to come back to me,” Sherlock said.

“I already said-“

“No, John, I mean it,” Sherlock interrupted, taking John’s hand again. He looked back up at him, expression as open as it’d ever been. “You need to swear you’ll come back to me. Promise that you’ll be back and everything will be just fine and nothing will change.”He took a breath, almost seeming to steady himself.

“John, I... I’m really unsure of what I’d do without you. I’m terrified of it and for you to be leaving for any length of time and I just need to know that you’re going to come back.” John’s heart broke a bit at the way Sherlock’s voice shook, his lover obviously on the edge of tears.

“Sherlock…” John said, unsure of what else he could really say to that. John laid down and scooted closer until they were chest to chest, bodies melting together as Sherlock relaxed into him. John tucked his head onto Sherlock’s shoulder.

“I promise you, I will come back,” John said. “But you have to promise me something as well.” Sherlock leaned back, looked at him with an expression that was obviously just barely held together.

“You can’t change either,” John said. “You keep yourself just the way you are. It’ll all be fine, I promise. I’ll come back and we can keep going on just the way we are now.”

Sherlock hesitated a moment. “Alright,” He said. He shifted, practically burying himself into John’s chest. “Alright.”

John kissed the top of Sherlock’s head, lightly rubbing at his back. They laid like that for what seemed like forever, the telescope and stargazing both forgotten.

_It’ll be alright._


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John wake up at the campsite, ready for the next day. However, it doesn't seem that things will go quite as planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, this chapter took forever. I'm _so sorry_ about the wait, the last couple months of class have been killer. I'm graduating in three weeks though!! 
> 
> Anyways, I finally found some time to write, so I went ahead and finished this next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

John didn’t quite wake up all at once, but just quietly drifted through semi-consciousness for a while. The various parts of his surroundings started to slowly slip into focus, the sound of nearby birds and plastic ruffling lightly in the breeze becoming apparent. As he became more and more conscious, John could also hear a steady, rhythmic breathing right beside him just as he also began to process the weight of several limbs both on and wrapped around him. He finally opened his eyes, finding Sherlock folded neatly around him, all ruffled hair and softened features.

John smiled lightly to himself and reached his free hand to tuck one particularly errant curl behind Sherlock’s ear, letting his thumb brush lightly over his cheek. Sherlock shifted a bit, taking a deep breath and taking away one of his arms before settling back down.

John smiled wider. He almost ached at how wonderful this one moment was. He honestly felt like he could stay like this forever – tucked in beside his sleepy lover, just listening to the world around them with nothing around to interfere.

After a couple moments, Sherlock made a sound as he shifted again, obviously beginning to wake up this time. He sniffed and slowly opened his eyes, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards as he focused on John.

“That’s an awfully nice view to wake up to,” Sherlock mumbled.

“How horribly romantic of you,” John laughed softly.

“Not really. Just stating the obvious,” Sherlock replied.

“When did you get so cheesy?” John asked, running his hand through Sherlock’s curls absentmindedly. “That’s a rather new development for you.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Must not be entirely awake yet, I suppose,” he yawned.

“Hmm. That particular trait is welcome to stay,” John said.

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise in response, closing his eyes again.

“This really is nice, though,” he muttered. “I suppose I should thank you for dragging us out here,”

“Goodness, now you’re even _thanking me?”_ John replied. “Maybe we need to go back into town, get you to a hospital. You’re obviously not feeling well.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to give a snarky reply, but he was quickly cut off by his own stomach growling loudly. John laughed.

“Maybe we really should go back into town for some breakfast,” he said. “I didn’t pack anything but some crisps, and I get the feeling you need a bit more than that.”

“Stupid bodily functions. They always have the worst timing,” Sherlock grumbled, tucking himself deeper into the sleeping bag. John undid the zipper on the bag and sat up, much to Sherlock’s annoyance.

“Come on now,” John said. “We can come back once we’ve gotten some food. There’s supposed to be a great hiking trail just beside the entrance to the park.”

Sherlock sighed, but pulled himself up after a moment.

Some breakfast would be nice, he supposed.

* * *

 

Sherlock gazed out the window of the diner, idly twirling a salt shaker. The food had been nice, although he had _apparently_ eaten much less than John would have liked. The man was like a mother hen, always watching what he ate, how he was feeling, how much he was sleeping… The gesture was kind, he supposed, but rather unnecessary. He liked to think he knew his body well enough to know what he needed. At the same time though… Each time John made one of those caring gestures, even something simple as that morning when he’d ran his fingers through his hair oh-so-gently, or when he would unconsciously tuck himself closer while they were sleeping, Sherlock ached somewhere inside.

Perhaps that was what love was, he supposed, although he never had been able to bring himself to say the words as of yet. Even thinking the word to himself made his stomach twist, making it rather obvious that actually speaking it to the object of his affections wouldn’t go well at all.

He did, however, vow to say it. Soon. He had to say it before-

“Cambridge,” John said, slicing straight through Sherlock’s train of thought.

“Hmmm?” Sherlock questioned, still staring out the window.

“Our next stop,” John replied through a mouthful of food. “I thought it’d be neat to go there. See the university, maybe. I almost went there, you know.”

Sherlock gave a slight smile. “Rather good thing you didn’t,” he said, turning to look at him now. “We likely wouldn’t have met if you did.”

John smiled. “That’s awfully sweet of you. Seems some of your romanticism from this morning carried over.”

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise, turning back towards the window.

“So,” John began again. “I’m not going to be able to get you to eat anymore than that, am I?”

“No, I’ve had enough.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Sherlock replied with just the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

“Alright, then let me finish with mine and we can be on our way,” John said.

* * *

 

“Shit!” John yelled, taking everything out of the tent and searching once again. “How could it have just disappeared like that?”

“Still no luck?” Sherlock called from just outside, where he was searching through the bags for the fifth time.

“No… Damn it!” He got out of the tent, standing up sharply. “I swear to God, if we can’t find this-!”

“John, it’s alright,” Sherlock said, setting the bag down. “It’s not a big deal.”

“ _Not a big deal!?”_ John shot back. “ _All of our money was in there, Sherlock!”_

“You’ve still got your wallet, right?” Sherlock asked calmly.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got –“ He took his wallet out, quickly counting the bills inside, “30 quid in here. The rest was in the bag in the car, I didn’t want to carry a lot of money on me. Right good choice that was, absolutely _genius there, John Watson-“_

Sherlock walked up to John, grabbing him by the shoulders. “John, _it’s alright. Everything is okay,”_ he said, looking him straight in the eyes. “Worst case scenario, we can’t find the money, _but we still have enough to get home_. It’s fine.”

John tensed for a few moments, then relaxed, letting his head rest on Sherlock’s chest.

“I just wanted it to be perfect,” he muttered after a few moments. “This was supposed to be perfect, an amazing trip before… You know. But nothing’s gone like it was supposed to, and now we might only be able to just go back to bloody London.”

“It has been perfect,” Sherlock replied. “It’s been fantastic. To be perfectly honest, John, this trip would have been damned _boring_ if it had all gone exactly as planned.” He tugged John closer, pulling him into an embrace.

“You’ve done just fine, and losing some money isn’t going to change that,” he finished.

“It was an awful lot, though,” John replied after a couple moments. “And Cambridge was going to be so nice-“

“Wait, John-“ Sherlock said suddenly. “Cambridge! University students!”

“Yes, that’s what we’d planned,” John replied. “Do you not remember this morning-?”

“No, John! _Students!”_ Sherlock huffed, seeing nothing but confusion on John’s face. “Come on now, you’ve been around the population of our school! They can be atrociously dull and gullible, which in this case, is a very good thing.”

“I still don’t understand,” He said.

“Listen, just help me pack this all up,” Sherlock replied, zipping up a nearby bag. “I think I know how to get your money back if we can just get to Cambridge.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a plan to get John's money back, although it may take a bit of figuring to work out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, it's been a while. But hey, big news; I've finished my degree! Wooo!
> 
> But, you're probably not here to hear about my personal life c;
> 
> So, here's chapter six. You may have also noticed that there's a chapter count now- the end is in sight, and only two chapters away! Unfortunately, road trips can't last forever.
> 
> Anyways, hopefully you enjoy, despite how long it may have taken to post this relatively short chapter c:

John was more than a little concerned with the small, cat-like smile that seemed to be glued to Sherlock’s face. He could practically _feel_ the conspiratorial air around him. Sherlock was obviously planning _something,_ and considering the ice-tray incident last semester, he wasn’t quite sure if he was comfortable not knowing what it was.

“Sherlock-“

“Nope,” Sherlock said simply. “You’ve already asked seven times since we’ve left.”

“But-“

 “Think of it like a _game,_ John,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Use your brain- it must be rattling ‘round somewhere up there. You _have_ made it through the majority of medical school, after all.”

John rolled his eyes, before turning them back to the road. Despite himself, however, he did begin turning it over in his head, making a mental list of sorts.

One, Sherlock had the idea when he remembered that they were going to Cambridge. So, it must have to do with either the abundance of university students or the general area.

Two, he was somehow going to get his money back. Two hundred pounds of it. That was probably the part he was most concerned with-

“Sherlock,” John said suddenly. “You’re not planning on _stealing_ anything, right?”

The corners of Sherlock’s mouth quirked. “Don’t you remember, John? University students are _awfully_ gullible-“

“We are _not_ stealing from anybody, Sherlock!” John shouted.

“Joking, John,” Sherlock quipped. “Although their gullibility certainly does play into it.”

John was silent for a while longer, and Sherlock finally caved.

“I suppose you have to know what will happen for it to go properly,” he began. “Do you remember the few times I asked where we were going?”

“Yes..?” John said.

“And you asked me to guess? Do you remember what you said?”

“Work it out..?” John questioned.

“No, no,” Sherlock replied. “Your _exact_ words, ‘you can figure it out, you’re the…’?”

“Genius?” John asked.

“No…”

John pondered for second, trying to remember. “…Psychic?”

“ _Exactly!”_ Sherlock exclaimed.

John thought for a moment, trying to connect the pieces.

 _Failing_ to connect the pieces.

“I still don’t understand,” John replied.

Sherlock sighed, but began to explain. As he went on, a grin spread across John’s face, with just a hint of concern mixed in.

“That’s bloody clever of you,” John said, “and just a bit evil.”

Sherlock smiled. “Exactly what I’d hoped for.”

* * *

 

_How the hell do I get myself into these sorts of things?_

It wasn’t the first time that thought had crossed John’s mind, and so long as he knew Sherlock, it surely wouldn’t be the last. This most recent time, however, found him sitting on a bench, waiting and watching.

Meanwhile, Sherlock stood nearby a crossroads of walkways, each crisscrossing and leading to some destination within the university. He concentrated for a couple moments, calling back his ‘stage face’ with just a bit of difficulty. He waited for a while more, until the stream of students was steadier.

“ _I can read your life just by the look on your face!”_ Sherlock yelled, garnering the attention of the students a few feet away. “ _Give me just a moment, and I can tell it all! Find who’s been cheating on you, what your future holds! Five quid for your future!”_

John struggled to rein in his laughter. Stage Sherlock was always an entirely different entity from the usual man, but there wasn’t usually so much a striking contrast. He could almost feel Sherlock’s inner disdain from his seat on the bench. He quickly composed himself, still waiting.

“ _Oh, come now, don’t any of you want to know something!?”_ Sherlock roared, his voice now echoing enough to cause a few people to stop. “ _Do I really have to choose someone from the crowd?”_ He made an exaggerated show of searching the slowly-growing crowd of watchers, finally landing on John in the distance. “ _You!”_ He yelled, pointing towards him, leading the students’ glances.

John’s head snapped up. _Here we go…_

“That’s alright,” John said. “I don’t really buy into that sort of thing.”

“ _Come now, only five quid! I guarantee, you won’t be unhappy with the result!”_

“I’m really not-“

“Come on, do it!” One girl yelled from the crowd.

John sighed, and stood, walking over to Sherlock as he opened his wallet.

“Five quid, eh?” John said, picking a note from the pocket. “It’d better be good.”

“I promise you, it will,” Sherlock said with a wink. He looked up then, his eyes scanning the crowd, inadvertently making him look a bit more like himself.

“Ah!” Sherlock said, snapping back into his show persona. “I’ve got it-“

“I get the _aura_ from you-“ John held back a laugh at Sherlock’s obvious internal cringe at the description of his incoming deduction, “-that you are a bit of a _ladies’ man!”_

John smiled and blushed a bit as a couple “ooh”s sounded from the crowd, putting his hands out in a you-got-me pose.

“…But I also have gathered that a _certain somebody_ has had their eye on you!”

The crowd shifted again, a couple giggles scattered throughout, obviously searching for the one whom Sherlock was talking about. Sherlock seized the opportunity, extending a hand and pointing through the crowd.

“-And it is.. _you!”_ The crowd parted slightly, finding Sherlock to be pointing directly at the girl who had yelled out earlier.

She blushed heavily but shrugged. “Guilty as charged,” She said sheepishly.

“As a matter of fact, she’s been hoping to find a date for the night. At the very least, she’d been hoping to leave with a certain somebody’s cell number…” Sherlock trailed off, shifting his gaze back toward John, who was about as red as the nearby brick buildings.

“…Unfortunately, however, the ladies’ man is _taken.”_

It was John’s turn to shrug. “Guilty as charged,” he said, mirroring the girl’s earlier reply.

“Not as much of a loss, though,” Sherlock said, winking at her. “The poor ladies’ man is a bit quick in bed.”

John froze, turning an impossibly redder shade as the now much larger crowd laughed. “Hey…” he said quietly.

“Just joking,” Sherlock half-whispered back under the noise of the crowd.

“Well,” John said once the noise had died down. “I’ve got to say, you were pretty spot on. E-Except that last bit…” He incited a couple more laughs. Sherlock took a bow, and the gathered students clapped.

“ _Now,”_ Sherlock exclaimed with a clap of his own. “Who’s next?”

* * *

 

John counted up the money again, chuckling softly to himself.

_140… 145… 150._

It wasn’t quite what he’d had stolen, but it was more than enough to get them to their last destination before heading home.

Sherlock stepped out of the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel wrapped loosely around his hips.

“I cannot _believe_ your bloody scheme worked…” John said, more to himself than Sherlock.

“Hmm,” Sherlock said before sitting down beside him on the cheap hotel sheets. “Faithful as always, I see.”

“Hey, I deserve a knock at you after that speed remark earlier,” John said, his face turning just the lightest tinge of red.

Sherlock smiled before laughing softly.

“What? _”_ John said indignantly. Sherlock’s laughter trailed off just the tiniest bit, and it was his turn to blush a bit before turning his gaze away.

“ _What?”_ John said again curiously, although a bit of annoyance still leaked into his voice.

“It’s just-“ Sherlock said, placing his hand over John’s. He looked back up to meet his eyes. “-You… You’re a bit adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

John sat there, unable to reply. Sherlock’s fingers, meanwhile, trailed lightly from John’s hand over to his thigh instead.

“And…” Sherlock continued in a low voice, his hand still moving tantalizingly slowly over the denim, “…You’re just a bit sexy when you’re angry.”

If the shade of red John had turned earlier had seemed impossible, it would be even more impossible to fathom the hue his face took on now. If there was one thing that was a turn on for him – and that Sherlock knew was a turn on – it was to hear him talk.

Two of Sherlock’s fingers tip-toed closed to the zip on the front of John’s jeans as he leaned tantalizingly closer.

“It’s true that I don’t like it when you’re angry with _me,”_ Sherlock rumbled, “But there’s just _something_ about that look in your eyes.”

John was quickly losing the ability to properly process Sherlock’s words, and was vaguely aware of the oddly quick tightening of his pants. _Christ._

“You always talk about how when I read into you, you feel that I’m digging into you, taking you apart bit by bit,” Sherlock said breathily. He enunciated each and every syllable, and John could feel the deep baritone that was Sherlock’s voice reverberating deep into his chest. John’s state had _definitely_ not passed under Sherlock’s radar, as he was now ever so slowly stroking across the front of his pants while he spoke.

“I imagine that it’s the same feeling that I get when I see the anger in your eyes…”

John was _absolutely_ catching each and every one of Sherlock’s words now, latching onto them for dear life.

“…Yours is a truly piercing rage, driving itself deep within whatever or whomever it’s directed at…”

Sherlock was adding much more pressure into his stroking now, and John was distantly aware of the ever-so-slight automatic rocking of his hips into Sherlock’s hand. He felt a familiar tightening beginning, but found his voice too caught to say anything about it.

“…I’d loathe to be on the receiving end of the result of that gaze, John Watson. It’s the look of a creature ready to pounce, to destroy whatever has wronged it…”

John was bucking much harder now, and he was helpless to stop it.

“…It’s truly… _Predatory.”_

“ _Sherlock-!”_ John choked out, bucking hard once more as he finally released. Sherlock rushed forwards, firmly planting their mouths together and swallowing and noises that may have escaped his throat. After a few moments, Sherlock moved back, simply watching.

John was absolutely unable to process a single thing for a short while, sitting there panting lightly. Realization suddenly hit him as he became aware of the quickly-cooling mass in the front of his jeans, and his face remained stubbornly red.

“Ah… Sherlock…” John began. God, he just wanted to disappear. “I… I think…”

“I know,” Sherlock said, smiling. “The shower is unoccupied. Don’t worry about me.”

“Right,” John said, sitting still for a moment before standing awkwardly. He walked across the room as normally as he could manage, quickly shutting the bathroom door behind him. Christ, it was like being in the middle of puberty again. He quickly turned the tap, fumbling out of his clothes. He tried to not think of what Sherlock was likely doing by himself, naked, in the hotel room while he got clean.

He swore that man was going to kill him someday.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John arrive at their last stop before heading home.

                It was barely sunrise when Sherlock found himself being shaken awake, nearly startling him into falling straight out of bed.

                “What the hell are you on about!?” Sherlock shouted, much to John’s apparent dismay.

                “Shush!” He whispered. “Keep your voice down, there’s still quite a few people sleeping in the other rooms.”

                “Yes, and _why the hell aren’t we?_ ” Sherlock replied angrily.

                John seemed to have apparently forgotten how incredibly _grouchy_ Sherlock was when he was awoken early. Irritated moments in the early hours of their flat came to mind.

                “We need to leave a bit early for our last stop,” John replied. “Trust me, it’s worth it. The crowds will be much smaller if we leave now.”

                Sherlock sighed, wrapping himself tightly within the duvet.

                John was a brave man, and stepped forward to tear the blanket away.

                Sherlock looked back up at him with pure murder written in his eyes.

                “Come on, we can get breakfast on the way out,” John said, grabbing his bag and rushing out the door before Sherlock’s wrath could reach him.

                Sherlock grumbled to himself as he stood, made the bed, and walked out the room, glancing quickly behind him to make sure nothing was left behind.

* * *

 

                Sherlock blinked sleepily from the seat beside him, obviously only barely awake. John honestly wasn’t much better off, but he knew it would be worth it. This was their last stop, it needed to be special.

                “Any particular reason why you had us leave so early?” Sherlock asked with a yawn.

                “That’s the third time you’ve asked that now,” John replied, “and the answer hasn’t changed. Trust me on this, leaving at the time we did ensures that we’ll _get there_ at the exact right time.”

               “And ‘there’ is?” Sherlock questioned.

                “Nope,” John replied, “and all the sulking in the world isn’t going to make me tell you. This one is special.”

                Sherlock huffed, but John caught just the smallest smile out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock was likely turning the clues over in his head, trying to figure out exactly where they’d be headed. Regardless of whether he would figure it out before they eventually arrived anyways, it gave John a couple hours of comfortable silence to drive the peaceful roads in.

* * *

 

                John parked in the graveled semicircle, taking in the familiar sight of the cliff side. God, he’d missed this place.

                Sherlock perked his head up, eyes searching for confirmation of his many guesses to their destination. Judging by the slight fall of his face, this was obviously not what he’d expected.

                “A cliff?” Sherlock asked.

                “Ah, we’re not quite there yet,” John replied, grabbing a backpack from the backseat. “Come on.”

                John could practically _see_ the unanswered questions floating round Sherlock’s head, but he remained silent.

                They walked along the sandy, slightly-unsteady path for a while, slowly trailing their way down the cliff side and into a cave. John grabbed a flashlight from the side pocket of his backpack, and searched for the exit he remembered. He was vaguely concerned that perhaps his memory of this place was a bit foggier than he’d thought, and that he was getting them dreadfully lost on the coast, but eventually he found a bit of light and confirmed the familiar sight on the other side.

                He walked out of the cave, Sherlock trailing behind, and closed his eyes as he took in the air coming off the ocean. It was cold, but he didn’t mind all that much. It was more the place than anything.

                “This is… Nice.” Sherlock said, obviously still a bit confused.

                John opened his eyes and turned to flash a sheepish grin. “I suppose maybe this bit is more for me,” he said. “I used to come here to this beach all the time, with mum and dad and Harry.”

                He walked towards a larger rock just in front of the water and sat down. “Harry and I, we’d gone off exploring even though we weren’t supposed to. Well, it was more Harry, really. But we found this cave, and after walking a bit, we found this cove.” He leaned back, smiling wistfully. “Mum was so angry that we’d run off. And me, being the little shit I was, I promised I’d run away and never come back. That I didn’t need her or dad or Harry bossing me around. Just another stupid argument”

                He looked down for a moment, clenching his hand a bit automatically. “If I’d known, then…” he paused. “If I’d known that the accident would be so soon, I wouldn’t have argued. I would’ve said sorry. I really was rather awful to her.”

                John looked out over the water, momentarily forgetting that he was even talking to anyone, or why he was here. Wasn’t this supposed to be fun? “And things never were the same after she was gone. We’d drifted apart. And then Harry came out to dad, and he reacted so awfully… Said that he’d already lost his wife, now he’d lost a daughter too-“John didn’t finish the sentence. It was rather hard to talk, suddenly.

                “John…” Came a soft voice from behind him. He was a bit surprised to hear the voice, almost like he’d forgotten that Sherlock was even standing there.

                It was an even bigger surprise when he felt the weight of Sherlock wrapping him in an embrace, holding tight as if he could squeeze all the worry away.

                “It’s alright,” Sherlock murmured, his tone as kind and soft as John had ever heard. “I’m sorry that that happened to you. I suppose I can’t fix it, but I can be here for you now.” He held him tighter.

                “I don’t like to hear you like this,” Sherlock said. “It’s unlike you. You’re like a conductor of light, taking all the good ‘round you and spreading it to those you care about. Maybe you need to save some of that light for yourself, hmm?”

                John was unable to move. He honestly had no idea what to say, or think, or do… He was distantly shocked when he felt the warmth of tears escaping his eyes, stopping to rest on his cheeks.

                Sherlock hesitated a moment, then moved forward, pressing his lips to the tears and taking them away. Tears did not belong on John Watson’s face, _his_ John. If there was anyone in the world who deserved every last bit of happiness that could possibly cross his path, it was John.

                John began to openly cry now; crying for his broken family, crying for his upcoming service, and most of all, crying for how incredibly wonderful it was to have happened upon someone like Sherlock Holmes. Although he may have been filled with what seemed like an insurmountable sadness a moment ago, it seemed to all be flowing out now.

                And it was here, with tears streaming down his face, Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him, and the sound of the lapping ocean spliced with various shushes and reassurances from his lover, that John realized how truly lucky he was and how very much in love with this man he had become.

                It was a moment that John forever wanted to relive, and one that he would always keep close.


End file.
